


make it work (the something new remix)

by dedkake



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Demisexuality, M/M, Relationship Negotiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:02:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8011153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedkake/pseuds/dedkake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He looks altogether different than Charles has ever seen him, still beautiful, but dangerous, too, because Charles’ stomach is fluttering and he can’t stop the answering smile from pulling at his own lips.</p>
<p>OR Charles and Erik meet and knock each other completely off balance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	make it work (the something new remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AsexualMagneto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsexualMagneto/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Something New](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2845352) by [AsexualMagneto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsexualMagneto/pseuds/AsexualMagneto). 



> I was struck by your endnote a lot and wanted to do a couple of AUs across time but this one grabbed me and wouldn’t let go.

Charles meets Erik at a party thrown by the campus pride group in the first week of their junior year. He finds Erik on a lumpy looking couch shoved out of the way of the rest of the party. Erik is decidedly not dancing, which Charles can appreciate just as well as he can a dancer, so he drops down next to Erik on the couch and smiles at him.

Before Charles can even get a line out, Erik says, “You’re going to regret that.”

Not one to back down from a challenge, Charles says, “Oh? Should I be on the lookout for an angry lover or are you going to be meting out the regret?”

Erik’s face pinches together oddly and Charles realizes that Erik is significantly less intoxicated than Charles—or anyone else in the room. Which is fine—the situation can still be remedied.

“I’m not going to have sex with you,” Erik says, his tone solid and steely, his eyes turned back towards the dancefloor.

And okay, now the remedy is going to be harder to find, but Charles prides himself on being a champion of charm. “Is that what I’m going to regret now that I’ve sat down next to you?” he asks, leaning closer. “That I don’t stand a chance of getting you in my bed?”

Erik shoots him a confused look without even turning his head away from the dancefloor. It’s kind of cute, the way his cheeks have flushed slightly. Charles wants nothing more than to lean over and kiss him.

“No,” Erik says, and the word is clipped short, like he’s struggling to keep it inside, but he shakes his head. “No. I’ve just been stuck on this monster couch for an hour trying to sober up enough to get out of it without winding up on the floor.”

Charles blinks—and blinks again, because that is not where this conversation was supposed to be headed. “What?” he asks, because really, that’s the only logical question to ask right now.

“Whoever designed this couch should be in the business of making jail cells or torture chambers,” Erik says, which seems entirely unfair to the couch—it is soft and comfortable and doing a really nice job of supporting Charles’ back. “You can’t stand up.”

Squinting slightly to show Erik that he is making zero sense, Charles says, “Maybe you are way more drunk than I thought.”

Erik rolls his eyes and straightens his posture out, bracing his hands next to his thighs like he’s about to push himself up—which is unacceptable.

“I mean, I can think of plenty of things to do to you on the couch if you’re right,” Charles says, trying for his most charming smile.

“Fuck you,” Erik says—completely uncalled for. “I already turned you down and I’m _asexual_ , thanks for asking.” 

He pushes himself up off the couch, which looks like it takes him about five times as much effort as it should and flips Charles off with a finger that does in fact have a black ring on it.

Oh.

Shit.

Charles goes to push himself up as well because he’s not usually that insensitive and he’s not into making enemies of people he barely knows, but it turns out that Erik is right about the couch and he only gets sucked further down into a lumpy, pillowy mess instead of following Erik across the room.

Raven rescues him from the monster couch a few minutes later and it turns out that she _knows_ Erik even though it’s only her first week at college and how is that even possible.

“Erik Lehnsherr?” Raven says, like the name is supposed to mean something. “The vice chair of the group that, y’know, is throwing this event?”

And how has Charles never met him before?

-

“Go away, asshole,” Erik says when the guy from the party sits down across from him in the library cafe. All he wants to do is eat his bagel and read the news between classes, which can’t possibly be too much to ask for.

“It’s Charles,” the guy says, placing a coffee cup on the table. Erik glares at the cup—Charles is still holding one in his hand, which means he’s gone out of his way to get a second and this can’t possibly be a coincidence.

Turning his glare up to Charles, Erik says, “Are you stalking me?”

Charles winces at that, but there’s a small smile on his lips and Erik tries not to appreciate the way it softens his face. “I didn’t come here to find you,” Charles says, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “But I wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to apologize when I saw you.”

Great. Wonderful. Just what Erik needs. “So you’re bribing me with coffee?” He punctuates the statement by pushing the coffee back towards Charles. He doesn’t want it.

“I’m sorry,” Charles says, taking a sip of his own coffee. “For everything.”

Erik decidedly does not roll his eyes. It’s difficult because annoyance and frustration are nearly choking him and he only has five minutes left before he has to leave for his next class. Clearly Charles doesn’t care, just wants to feel better about himself or whatever and if that’s what he needs to leave Erik alone, Erik can oblige.

So he takes the damn coffee. He doesn’t drink it because he still doesn’t really want it, but he holds it like he’s thinking about it. “It’s fine,” he says, making a point to look Charles in the eye. “You were an ass at a party. I don’t even really know who you are. It doesn’t matter. Let it go. Move on with your life and let me move on with mine.”

Erik expects Charles to give up and go home, but instead, Charles’ eyes fall on the newspaper Erik’s been trying to read. The look on his face shifts from apologetic to furious in a matter of seconds as he reads the headline and Erik is definitely not to be impressed.

“I can’t believe people are actually flocking to him after what he said,” Charles spits, slumping back in his chair like he belongs there.

He does not, Erik tries to tell himself, but he can’t help responding anyway. “It’s not hard to believe. The American voter base is completely untrustworthy and stupid.”

Charles looks so scandalized that Erik has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. “You can’t just sit there and insult millions of people,” Charles says, eyes narrowing in something Erik can only assume is anger. Good.

“I can if they deserve it, which they do. Just look at the history.”

Charles’ response is clearly on the tip of his tongue, but he’s cut off by the alarm on Erik’s phone.

“I’m sure you have a perfectly naïve response ready,” Erik says, unable to stop himself from smiling as Charles scowls at him, “but it will have to wait.”

It’s not until he’s sliding into his seat in the lecture hall that he realizes that he’s basically invited Charles to find him again.

And he doesn’t realize he still has the coffee until he’s taking a sip.

-

Charles firmly believes that everyone is entitled to their own opinion, no matter how wrong or cruel that opinion may be. He really does. Thoughts and beliefs are the only real things that a person can possess entirely and no one has a right to take them away.

At least, he tries to remind himself he believes in that ideal as the man next to him continues to spew hate into his cellphone as they wait for their orders to come up. The man is clearly very frustrated about a great many things, but he keeps going on about how gay people are ruining the world and Charles doesn’t know how the person on the other end of the line can put up with it.

The other customers in line are wincing and looking away, and one mom even has her hands over her child’s ears. It’s absurd. The man has to realize just how rude he’s being on top of being a bigot.

Clearly he does not. Charles can’t take another minute of it.

“Excuse me,” he says to the man, trying to sound as polite as possible.

The man looks down his nose at him, not even moving his phone away from his mouth as he responds. “What do you want?”

Charles takes a quick breath, trying to absorb the anger without returning it. “Could you please call back later? You’re making some of us uncomfortable.”

“What the hell?” This time, the man drops his phone away from his face, rounding on Charles completely. “I can do whatever I want.”

“Of course you can,” Charles says, reaching for calm. “Which means I can do whatever I want, too, and I’m asking you to please respect everyone else in the store and get off your phone.”

“Fuck you,” the man growls, and something in Charles snaps.

“You know what?” he says, the words feeling sharp on his tongue. “No. Since decency doesn’t seem to matter to you at all, let me just make this clear. If you have the right to come in here and demand service while acting like a complete asshole to the entire room, I have the right to tell you that you’ve crossed the line of common courtesy and are now insulting my very existence and I shouldn’t have to put up with it when all I want is a goddamn cup of coffee.”

There’s a ringing silence in the coffee shop when Charles finishes and he feels like the sound of his breathing is echoing across the shocked faces around him. He can barely believe he’s just exploded like that and clearly the man feels the same, staring at Charles open-mouthed, his entire face twitching with surprise and rage. But he doesn’t say anything, and Charles keeps glaring to pin him in place.

“Charles,” the barista calls, breaking the silence, and Charles is thrown completely off balance, turning towards the counter. He knows that voice.

Erik is holding his coffee out to him, a glint in his eye and a grin splitting his face. He looks altogether different than Charles has ever seen him, still beautiful, but dangerous, too, because Charles’ stomach is fluttering and he can’t stop the answering smile from pulling at his own lips.

Even more surprising, Erik leans over across the counter when Charles reaches for his drink, placing a soft but unmistakable kiss on his cheek. Charles gapes at him, until he catches the way that Erik is watching the bigot from the corner of his eye.

Charles finds his smile turning into a grin, his anger evaporating completely as the man behind him seems to short circuit.

“See you later, darling,” Charles says, winking at Erik as he turns to leave.

It’s not until he’s outside that he sees what’s written on his cup. _Sorry_ , scrawled in a bold hand, followed by a phone number.

This is not at all how Charles expected his morning to go, but he’s not going to complain.

-

“I still don’t want to have sex with you,” Erik says. They’re playing chess and Erik can’t stop himself. Charles has him mated and he’s about to knock over Erik’s king and Erik _can’t stop himself_. He grabs at Charles’ wrist and the words just tumble out of his mouth.

Charles frowns at him, but doesn’t pull his hand away. “I wasn’t expecting you to.” He says it slowly, like he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do—which, okay, maybe Erik isn’t making a lot of sense.

He’s really not sure how these things are done. The last time he’d felt any remote inclination towards a romantic relationship was in high school and it had been great because Magda had asked _him_ out instead of the other way around. Of course, she’d also broken up with him three months later, but that was in the past.

It’s different with Charles. They’ve become close since that day in the coffee shop, spending free afternoons together and meeting up on the weekends—it’s easy to be around Charles, almost relaxing, despite how infuriating he can be.

Erik knows he wants something different with Charles, now. The problem is, despite his early flirtations, Charles has respected Erik’s boundaries without question, and now the ball is in Erik’s court and he barely knows what to do.

“We should go out,” Erik finally gets out, squeezing Charles’ wrist a little tighter. He doesn’t want him to go. “Like on a date.”

But Charles isn’t pulling away. He’s just staring at Erik like he’s grown a second head and Erik tries not to think about what a terrible idea this is.

“It’s okay if you don't want to,” he says after a solid minute of Charles’ scrutiny. “It’s understandable.”

“Erik,” Charles cuts in. His voice is soft, but Erik feels it like a punch to the gut. “Erik, I’d really like that.”

And Erik can’t believe his ears for a moment. Charles’ words settle over him like a blanket, warm and comforting and everywhere. His heart is pounding so hard he’s afraid that it will take off and leave him behind, and at the same time, it feels like it’s weighing him down.

This will change everything.

He pulls his hand back to his side, his fingers still tingling with the heat of Charles’ skin as he turns away. 

Taking a breath, he asks, “Are you sure?” Because he needs to know. He can’t do this if it means Charles is just going to be sitting around waiting for him to cave, for him to do something he doesn’t want.

“No,” Charles says, the word like a knife this time, twisting sharp in Erik’s ear. Erik turns to glare at him, but Charles is already continuing. “I’m not sure, but I like you and I want to be with you and I think we can make it work.”

There’s another moment of silence because Erik doesn’t know what to say. He realizes, distantly, his ears ringing, that he wasn’t really expecting Charles to say yes. It’s an absurd notion, because Charles has done nothing but say yes to Erik since that day in the coffee shop.

Charles takes a breath, and Erik feels it in his own lungs. “I mean, if that’s what you want,” Charles says, and the hope in his voice catches at Erik’s heart.

“Yes,” Erik says, not quite recognizing his own voice. “That’s what I want.”

\- 

“I don’t like kissing, but it’s fine if you want to,” Erik says one night and Charles blinks in surprise.

They’ve been doing what Charles can only call cuddling for the past month, which is wonderful. Erik holds his hand all the time, and if he’s not holding his hand, he’s brushing up against him, leaning against his back, touching his foot to Charles’ under the table. He leans into him whenever they’re seated next to each other, and he lies himself across Charles’ lap on the couch. It’s constant and it is _wonderful_ , but Charles would be kidding himself if he said he hasn’t been thinking of what kissing Erik would be like.

“Just ask first,” Erik says, settling himself back against Charles on the couch.

So Charles does a few nights later and Erik looks him in the eye before he nods. It’s different. Erik sits still and tense and the kiss is nothing more than a press of lips against lips. Charles almost thinks he’s fucked it all up when Erik pulls back after only a moment, but Erik just smiles and shrugs and lies his head back against Charles’ shoulder.

It gets easier after that. When Charles lets his hand fall from Erik’s hip to his ass as they walk down the street, Erik grabs it and pulls it back up. _Hands above the waist._ While Erik may like to give massages—which he is amazing at—he tenses up and pulls away the first time Charles tries to reciprocate. _Not from behind_. Light kisses on the lips is fine, but any attempt at deepening it is met with a firm hand on his chest. _Closed mouths only_.

Erik is so sure of everything, so confident in the way he moves around Charles, that Charles barely has a moment to be insecure about their relationship. Especially not with how Erik _looks_ at him—which is to say, _all the time_.

Charles notices it over a game of chess. Erik is thoroughly trouncing him, but he keeps looking up, watching as Charles thinks over a move. The realization comes slowly, because it seems so normal, but Erik hasn’t looked away once beyond the few times he’s had to consult the board.

Erik’s eyes are always on him, completely focused and open and it’s more intense than any kiss.

When Charles leaves that night, Erik walks him to the door and smiles, something small and genuine and rare. “I’m really glad you came by tonight,” he says in a voice that is just as soft.

Charles can’t keep the smile off his face all the way home. He can’t even stop when his roommate sneers at him and asks him how he can be so damn happy when he’s not even getting any and Charles finds the response rolling off his tongue without a thought.

“I hadn’t even really noticed.”

\- 

They’re playing chess just like any other night and it should be nothing. Charles is just getting them a second round of beer from the fridge and he runs his fingers through Erik’s hair as he walks by and Erik’s whole world comes to a grinding halt.

Because it should be _nothing_.

It’s not that Erik doesn’t like it when Charles touches him. And it’s not even the first time that Erik’s had a physical reaction to Charles touching him. That’s always easy enough to ignore. No. The problem is that this time, he wants to _do_ something about it. His pulse is racing and his fingers actually twitch with completely inexplicable desire.

Erik tries to breathe, tries to bring his world back into focus, but then Charles is back, setting Erik’s beer down on the table and taking a sip of his own.

Watching Charles’ throat work, Erik feels his own mouth go dry, his vision narrowing down to that point.

“Damn,” Charles breathes out, setting his own beer down next to Erik’s and dropping down onto the couch. “How do you drink this American stuff? It’s offensive.”

Erik wants to kiss him, but that’s wrong because Erik hates kissing. Even when it’s Charles, he only barely tolerates it and never initiates it and this is all wrong. But it’s _Charles_ and even when he’s insulting Erik, he’s still the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Except now Charles has reached out and twisted everything out of focus.

“Erik?” Charles asks, his voice soft. Clearly Erik was supposed to respond to the teasing. He was probably also supposed to take his move in their game, but he can’t think.

He needs to get out.

There’s an excuse tumbling from his lips and he’s on his feet, at the door. Charles is calling after him, but the words wash over Erik without landing. He’s moving blindly, skipping steps on the staircase as he pushes himself out of the building, and when he makes it outside, he’s gulping down fresh air like he’s been drowning.

Erik doesn’t get very far before he has to slow down. The cool night air clears his head almost immediately, but the distance from Charles just twists and settles in his stomach uncomfortably. There’s no way around the truth now, Erik realizes.

It’s simple: he wants to have sex with Charles.

For a moment, Erik is almost violently angry. Charles did this to him. He came into his perfectly fine life and settled himself in where he wasn’t even wanted and now he’s torn away part of Erik’s identity. He’s taken something fundamental and integral to who Erik is and shaken it loose.

But that’s not fair. Not even Charles can control Erik’s body that way. This is on Erik.

He doesn’t even realize he’s looped the apartment complex until his looks up and finds himself on the walkway in front of his building.

It’s like moving on autopilot. He doesn’t feel like himself as he climbs the stairs to his apartment—he feels like an outsider in front of his own door, like he doesn’t belong. He unlocks it anyway.

Charles is still there when he pushes the door open, still sitting over their game, still nursing his beer. His eyes flick up to meet Erik’s and Erik steels himself. He can do this.

“I think I want to have sex with you,” Erik says, the words foreign on his tongue.

He wants to take them back immediately because they’ve done something to Charles—the tension eases out of his shoulders, but his face twists into an expression that’s torn between confusion and hope and he still looks so fucking adoring that Erik can’t take it. But he can’t look away, either.

Charles licks his lips and Erik’s stomach flips, making him feel almost light-headed. “Erik—I thought—” and Erik knows what Charles thought because it’s what Erik told him and it’s what Erik thought and he doesn’t want to have to talk about it anymore because it _hurts_.

“Yeah, well, maybe you thought wrong. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe my whole life has been wrong,” Erik snaps. It still hurts. He shouldn’t have said anything—he shouldn’t have come back at all. He hasn’t sorted anything out and it’s impossible to think with Charles just sitting there.

The silence hangs heavily between them for a moment, thick and impenetrable. Erik should tell Charles to get out. He should tell him it was a mistake. He should laugh it off and get stupid drunk. He should get over there and make his move in their game. But all he can do is stare at the way Charles’ fingers grip at the edge of the couch and try not to think about how they feel on his skin.

Charles clears his throat and says, his voice warm in the growing silence of the room, “Obviously I don’t know how you feel or anything, but demisexuality is a thing, right?”

Erik covers his face with his hands because Charles is too good to be real and how the fuck had it not occurred to him yet. “You cannot be giving me a lecture on the ace-spectrum right now—it’s not fair.” Because every second that Charles keeps being _Charles_ and Erik isn’t touching him is unbearable.

“I just—I did some research—well, a lot of research. I guess it’s still going,” Charles says, and Erik still can’t look at him. “I started when we first met because I like you, Erik, and I want us to work.”

There’s no response to that—Erik can’t say anything more about his feelings right now. He’s said too much already and he feels frayed at the edges. 

“I’m just trying to say, you’re still you, Erik,” Charles says softly and Erik drops his hands to look at him.

Charles looks just like he always does—it’s something in Erik that’s different. But maybe it’s not different entirely. Maybe Charles is right. Maybe it’s just another door opening inside of Erik _because_ it’s Charles.

Taking a breath to steady himself, Erik sits down next to Charles. Their thighs are touching, but they remain silent, just breathing softly. Together.

“Kiss me.” Erik can’t ask it as a question, that would leave too many outcomes. He needs to know where this is going—if it can go at all.

Charles is hesitant to follow the order, but he does, slowly. Erik feels tense and awkward at first, like he always does, and that’s almost a relief. He doesn’t let himself pull away this time, like he might’ve before. Instead he parts his lips and Charles takes the cue, trailing his fingers up to Erik’s face, tilting his head and holding him while the kiss deepens.

The burning hole that opens in Erik’s stomach is growing with each moment and Erik’s going to drown in desire if they keep going. 

He can’t stop the noise that escapes him and he has to bring his hands up to Charles’ chest to brace himself, not sure whether he wants to push Charles away or pull him closer. And Charles stops, pulls back to give Erik room to breathe, but doesn’t let go.

Erik leans back, drawing Charles down over him as he lies back on the couch. “I want—” Erik tries to say, but that’s really just it. He _wants_ like he never has before.

Charles settles on top of him, resting his head on the couch next to him, his nose is pressed against Erik’s neck. “Just tell me when,” he says, his breath on Erik’s neck stoking the flames.

_Soon._

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this story in me for a long time and I need to thank AsexualMagneto and the mods or luck or whatever for getting me this assignment so I could finally get it out.


End file.
